


Love is Red

by inkfishie



Series: True Colors [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Sex, Fluff and Angst, Gallows Humor, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfishie/pseuds/inkfishie
Summary: Fate and Shiro have always had a bit of a complicated history.Somehow it's far less complicated than the history between himself and Keith. Unfortunately for the both of them, Fate wasstilltrying to screw them over.Fortunately (Or unfortunately, depending how you looked at it.) Their friends have the perfect plan.Sequel to The Human Touch





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, so I'm back after my sort-of break from fandom. Honestly I wasn't sure I'd find the motivation to get this going let alone post any of it. Anyway, this totally wont make any sense if you haven't read The Human Touch first, so you should probably give that a go first. This is a direct continuation of that story as well as a companion piece. It picks up where we left off with Keith and the others. :) 
> 
> I'm not sure what the update schedule is going to look like, but as I mentioned on tumblr, I do have an actual chapter outline for this, unlike The Human Touch, and I have the first couple chapters in draft form. I just have to buckle down and hack it out. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Ratings *will* change in the future if all goes according to plan. 
> 
> As always, you can follow me on tumblr @Inkfishie

 

 

Takashi was 12 years old when his older sister met her soulmate.

 

The day wasn’t remarkable in the slightest, at least not to Takashi. The only thing he could focus on was that he was tired and felt terrible. The kicker though? It was nearly 5 and he had been stuck sitting in the lobby of Pacific Oak Middle School for almost an hour.

It was his own fault, really. Wednesdays were always a crunch for the Shirogane household. Mom worked late, picking up the slack of being a single parent and his sister, Saki, had swim practice until 4:30. Takashi had his own clubs that he attended after school as well. Typically speaking, Wednesdays were his favorite because that’s when the junior robotics team met. He would’ve been fine with a ride home too if he hadn’t missed the late bus, he thought sulkily.

Fiddling with his phone, Takashi decided next time someone asked for his help with homework, he was going to say no. Especially if they spent the entire time giggling and not paying attention. Takashi was a good student, he worked hard to maintain his grades and typically didn’t mind helping his classmates. It was just hard to help when they were more interested in asking him about whether or not he was going to the Snowflake Social.

Was he going to go? Probably not. Did he want to go with Lacy Foxwood who had caused him to miss the bus? Nope, nope and nope.

Really, he just wanted his sister to hurry the heck up and get there. Takashi wanted to go home and sleep for a million hours. Sighing, turned away from his phone and glowered out into the street. The harsh, white street lights that illuminated the snowy sidewalk was almost eerie in a way. Something about it seemed chalky and cold and it set Takashi’s teeth on edge more than the frigid, January weather. He didn’t like winter, it always dragged on and on. The short days and even longer nights left him feeling sad and listless. Like he was slogging through endless shades of gray.

Finally, a set of headlights flashed as a car came down the road. Takashi sat up as he craned to see what sort of vehicle it was. Thankfully, it was a familiar, slate blue Subaru. Snatching up his stuff, Takashi trudged out to Saki’s car and flung himself inside. Grumpily he shoved his bag in the backseat and buckled in. When he turned in his sister’s direction her face was wearing a decidedly apologetic look.

“Sorry, bad news little guy. Mom’s running late so we gotta hit up the grocery store before we head home.” She said.

Takashi groaned and pushed his nose into the fuzzy threads of the scarf looped around his neck. “Nee-chan,” He whined. “Can’t we just get take-out or something?”

Shifting the car into gear, Saki pulled away from the curb and out onto the street. “You got a job to pay for it, buddy?” She asked, shooting a quick look in her brother’s direction.

Scowling, Takashi slumped down into his seat. His scarf slid up until only his eyes were visible above the pale green knit. “No,” He mumbled, sliding his gaze in her direction. The traitor.

Saki kept her eyes on the road, but her mouth quirked into a grin. “That’s what I thought,” She said. “But how about we cut a deal? We can get stuff for pizza, mom will probably be cool with that and it’ll be easy.”

It seemed like a fair compromise. And it would take far less time to grab the few things they needed for pizzas. Which was really the goal. The last thing Takashi wanted to do was to be stuck in the grocery store forever. Not when his head was starting to hurt and his eyes ached with the strain of having to stay open.

“Yeah, okay,” He grumbled. He tipped his head into the window and it thumped against the cool glass.

Saki turned briefly at that, and her dark brows furrowed in a thoughtful frown. She didn’t say anything though, instead, she turned her attention back to the road. It was just as well. Takashi didn’t feel much like talking, he kept thinking about Lacy Foxwood, and the way she had crowded into his space as she bugged him about the dance.

It wasn’t that Takashi didn’t _like_ other people. He liked them well enough, and they seemed to like him for the most part even though he was kind of quiet. He just didn’t like it when the ones he didn’t know very well got close to him. His mother said it made him seem stand-offish and grumpy. She said he should try smiling more and being more open. Like Saki. But as much as Takashi wanted to be, he just wasn’t like his sister.

Saki was popular and nice to _everyone._ She had a bunch of friends and was a Science Olympiad. She was also the captain of the varsity swim team and the vice president of her class. Everyone loved Saki, himself included. She had even gotten into the university she wanted. In the fall she was going to California to become a marine biologist and had been awarded a full scholarship.

By contrast, Takashi was introverted, nominally good at kicking around a soccer ball and spent way too much with his nose stuck in a book. It was a toss-up on the subject, but his favorites were science fiction and astronomy. He was still undecided on what he wanted to be when he grew up, only he was sure it had to be something Saki would think was cool. Saki was always proud of whatever he did, and was encouraging to boot, but Takashi still wanted her approval more than anything. Mom really wouldn’t care so long as he was happy and did well, but it was Saki’s opinion that really mattered.

Frowning, Takashi turned his face to the glass. Outside the the street lights whipped past until they slowed at a familiar intersection. The stop light was red, so there was only a few moments left for him to stew over his thoughts before they pulled into the busy parking lot. When it turned green, Saki wasted no time in easing off the break and into the mess of people and cars. It took a few minutes of circling before she found a vacant spot which grated on Takashi's nerves. Finally the car was put in park and the engine cut. Turning, Saki angled a smile in her brother's direction. 

“Ready?” She asked.

Takashi grumbled as he unbuckled and heaved himself out of the car. A burst of bitterly cold air slapped him in the face as he hurried to shut the door. It had the air catching in his lungs and the moisture in his nose freezing up. He _hated_ it. He was so moving somewhere warm when he was old enough. Some place where that the air didn’t hurt his face during the winter.

On the other side of the car, he heard the sound of Saki’s door closing. “Gggggh, It’s so cold!” She called as she hopped through the slush and started to jog toward the store. “C’mon, let's go before we freeze our butts off!”

Trudging along behind his sister, Takashi scrambled to catch up. The heavy layer of messy, wet snow made the going difficult, and the dark, leather uppers of his boots were wet by the time he made it inside. Pausing just inside the door, he waited while Saki went to grab a small cart. She was in the midst of wrangling one free when her phone chimed. Takashi watched as she fished it out of her pocket and swiped it open. Seconds later she was blowing out a sigh that sent her long, dark bangs puffing up.

Takashi frowned and shuffled where he stood. The soaking wet mat beneath his feet squelched with each step. “What?” He asked.

Saki shook her head and crammed her phone back into her pocket. She pulled a cart free and pushed it toward Takashi. “Nothing, Mom just needs a few other things.”

Takashi could feel his stomach clench. He was annoyed and so, so done and it made him want to scream. It made him want to hurl the cart into the nearest display. It made him want to break something. Instead, he pinched his mouth into a tight line and ruthlessly squashed the urge. He wasn’t a baby, no matter how much he wanted to throw a tantrum.

“Saki, C'mon!” He whined with a furious scowl. “It’s going to take forever!”

Saki regarded her brother for a quiet moment. Then she drew up close to ruffle her fingers through his hair. “I’ll try to make it as quick as possible, okay? You push the cart and I’ll run down the aisles.”

Burrowing into his scarf, Takashi could only nod. It wasn’t like they were going to get through this any faster if he disagreed. Anyway, Saki was right. It would be quicker if he waited while she went and grabbed what they needed. And for the first, five to ten minutes it did, in fact, go quicker. Only the store was still packed and _everyone_ was there to get what they needed in the post-work rush. But the longer it took, the worse Takashi started to feel.

He was hot under all his layers, but his feet and nose were still cold. His scarf felt itchy on his skin but he couldn’t bear the thought of unraveling it and exposing his skin because the air inside the store felt too dry. The fluorescent lights made his eyes burn, and the shuffling sounds of wet, gritty boots scraping across the floor made Takashi’s head hurt. Dutifully though, he followed after Saki, despite how heavy the cart was starting to feel.

He nearly bowled right into a lady wearing a long, puffy jacket coming around a corner. Thankfully Saki was there to grab the edge of the cart before Takashi clipped her. Saki dropped the package of toilet paper in her arms into the cart and wrinkled her nose down at her little brother.

“You okay, kiddo?” Saki asked.

Frustratingly enough, tears sprung to Takashi’s eyes before he could stop them. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying, only that he was and it was embarrassing and he couldn’t stop. “Nee-chan. I don’t feel so good.”

Saki let out a startled curse. Her hands were pressed to Takashi’s forehead a moment later, but he pinched his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see the look on her face. Her palms were cool against his skin though. Cool and gentle and for some reason that made Takashi cry harder.

“Shh, shh-- You’re okay, I’ve got you, Takashi.” She soothed, stepping in close and pushing his head against the front of her scratchy, wool letterman jacket. It was navy blue and white. The neatly stitched swim team logo emblazoned on the front rubbed against Takashi’s forehead.

Dimly, Takashi was aware of another voice, and of Saki responding. It made him feel worse because now he was causing a scene and there were other people nearby. Not only that, they were in the middle of the aisle.

“You think you can make it back to the car, kiddo?” Saki asked, voice gentle.

Takashi wasn’t sure. His stomach felt sick now, it was twisting and turning on itself like a snake. Not only that, the cart was still full. They hadn’t even paid yet. He shook his head. “But what about our stuff?” He asked, voice muffled.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll just bring you home and come back. No big deal. It’s cool.” Saki replied.

Takashi still wasn’t sure. It seemed like a lot of trouble, and he was the one causing it. Even if Saki didn’t mind, _he_ did. He didn’t want to make her drive all the way back out here. She said it was okay though... So maybe..

“Okay,” He agreed tentatively.

Saki’s fingers brushed through the hair at the back of his head soothingly, then she gently separated herself. When Takashi looked up, she was offering him a reassuring smile.

“Okay, let's ask up front if they can hold our stuff and then we’ll go. Sound good?”

Takashi nodded and together they made their way to the front of the store. She pulled him over to a vacant spot in the front window between a display of anti-freeze and windshield scrapers. Then she reached out to gently wipe his damp face with the sleeve of her jacket.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here, okay?” She said.

Sniffling, Takashi nodded again.

“Awesome,” Saki replied, flashing him a reassuring grin. “You’re doing awesome, buddy. Sorry you’re feeling so crappy. I’ll be super quick!”

Then Saki wrangled the cart and turned to wheel it toward the service desk. Only as soon as she turned, she collided with someone tall and solid. The cart slammed right into his stomach and he doubled over as the contents rattled and the wheels jammed up. Saki, eyes wide, cried out in alarm.

“Oh no! Oh my god, are you okay!?”

The kid, because he couldn’t have been much older than Saki herself, grunted out a pained breath. His hair was a sandy sort of brown and clipped short, and his limbs were long and lanky. He glanced up as Saki rushed to his side, and his face, red as it was, was covered in a smattering of freckles.

“I’m so sorry!” Saki blubbered. She had her hands outstretched as if maybe to touch him, to help him up, but wasn’t quite sure if the touch was welcomed.

Finally, the kid grunted and stood upright. The name on his badge had ‘Aiden’ stamped across it. “I--It’s okay,” This Aiden said, stuttering through the words.

Something like recognition flitted across Saki’s face. Her dark brows pinched and she went red as well. Before Takashi knew what was happening Saki was dipping her head in apology. Something he had only ever seen her do in front of their grandmother Shirogane.

“No, I should’ve been paying more attention. It’s just-- My brother isn’t feeling good and-- You’re in my English lit class, aren’t you?” Saki asked.

The kid sputtered and nodded as he tripped over his words. “Yeah, I--uhm-- You-- And... Uhh, there’s a swim meet next week?”

Takashi watched as his sister’s embarrassment melted away into something like amusement. She bit her lip as a smile stole across her face. She nodded.

The guy, Aiden, kept rambling on about the meet. “You were really good at the last one and-- I-- Well, good luck next week?”

“Thanks!” Saki replied brightly. “We’re up against Falcon, their good but I think we have a fighting chance. Their relay team isn’t as strong as ours.”

Aiden was nodding enthusiastically as if he knew exactly what Saki was talking about. Takashi wasn’t sure that this Aiden even had a _clue_ about swimming. In fact, Takashi wasn’t sure he even _liked_ this Aiden. He was tall and weird and kept looking at Saki like he was scared of her or something. Though Takashi's bad opinion of the guy could've had more to do with how awful he felt rather than any fault of this Aiden's. Wrinkling his nose, Takashi wrapped his arms around his middle where his stomach was gurgling and clenching uncomfortably. He felt hot again and could feel little beads of sweat running down along his temples.

“Saki,” He whined, hating that his sister's classmate was there to hear how pathetic he sounded.

Saki whipped around, startled. As if she’d somehow forgotten what was going on. Which was dumb because Takashi had been standing there the entire time. She shook her head and pulled her lower lip between her teeth with a frown. She turned back to her classmate. 

“Sorry, I gotta get him home. Is it okay if I leave my cart up here and come back for it in a bit?” She asked.

Aiden wagged his head, nodding. He looked a little stupid while doing it. Like a big dumb dog or something. “Yeah, of course. Sure. I’ll-- You can stick it up by the service desk.”

But instead of letting Saki deal with the cart Aiden’s arms jerked forward clumsily so that he could grab the cart himself. His palm closed over the back of Saki’s hand and for a split second, there was a stunned sort of silence between them. Then Aiden was jerking his arm back as if burned. Flustered, he went red again. Even Takashi knew it was rude to just _touch_ people without asking first. Saki wasn’t even friends with this guy!

But something was happening between the two of them. Takashi watched as his sister went absolutely still, and her face resolved into an expression he had never seen before. Saki was just sort of blinking up at Aiden like he'd grown a second head or something. Takashi’s eyes started to burn and he could feel his throat tightening.

“Nee-chan,” He tried again, voice weak.

Saki turned, dumbfounded. The back of her hand was suffused with color. A bright, tangerine sort of orange that spread across her skin like an ugly stain.

Takashi yanked his scarf away from his face just in time to puke all over Aiden’s canvas sneakers.

 

 

***

 

It was hot. So damned hot. Even with the environmental controls in their paladin suits, Shiro was sweating bullets. He was sort of starting to regret not opting to split the remaining work up over the course of several days rather than to finish it all in one. But which was really worse? One day in the heat, or several? It was a catch 22, but when it came right down to it, what Shiro wanted more was to get the hell off this planet. At least it was a relatively dry heat. That made it somewhat more tolerable.

Grunting, Shiro raked his damp hair from his sweaty brow. Then he turned back to the light-weight metal frame he was in the midst of constructing. Thank god it was the last damned one. They’d been at it for the better part of the day, fetching, toting and helping to build the last of the shelters that the Vyjni would use as their homes. The four of them, Lance, Hunk, Pidge and himself, were at the end of a row of six such shelters. Beyond, toward the center of the settlement, the Vyjni refugees were at their own tasks, keeping well away from their human helpers.

Shiro was still annoyed with how the whole scenario had played out. It had ended as well as could be expected, but Shiro still didn’t trust the Vyjni leadership as far as he could throw them. And he could throw pretty damned far when given the proper motivation. Their grand chancellor, a male called Rastyx, had ratted them out to the Galra. He had admitted as much when pressed by a furious Allura. It wasn’t something that Shiro had shared with his fellow paladins, but he was fairly certain they all knew.

What they didn’t know, was that Rastyx had _claimed_ that he had contacted the Galra in order to protect his people. Never-mind the hefty bounty that came with any info that lead to the capture of Voltron. Rastyx probably cared more about lining his pockets than the safety of his people, if the way he had been cozying up to Allura had been anything to go by. Thankfully the Princess was a sensible, if not ruthless, diplomat.  

Apparently, Alteans believed in keeping their enemies close as well. Which was why Allura had been monitoring the comm waves while they played peace-keepers. There would be no more unexpected guests catching the Paladins of Voltron unawares.

Slotting a bolt into place and tightening it with the aid of mechanized fingers, Shiro glanced aside. Nearby, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were slogging through their tasks. Well, Pidge was slogging. She was hunched cross-legged in the grass fighting to fit two pieces of the frame together. Hunk was far more focused on his task, having put together most of his pieces. Lance, meanwhile, had flat out stopped working and was splayed out on the ground like a starfish. Much like the rest of them, Lance’s hair was slick and damp; face flushed from the heat.

“Man, this sucks. How come Keith gets to skip out?” Lance complained loudly.

“I doubt he’s skipping out,” Shiro replied with a frown. “I’m sure he’s been given his own list of stuff to do.”

“Yeah, inside. Where it’s air-conditioned and not hot as balls,” Lance shot back, testily. His gaze slid up to where Shiro was standing and he scowled.

“He was helping Coran with the terra-forming thingey this morning,” Hunk pointed out as he finished tightening the bolts on a piece of the frame and set it aside. “Anyway, we would’ve been done by now if you hadn’t been so busy flirting with those two from earlier,”

Exploding upright, Lance spluttered out in annoyance. He ripped up a chunk of grass and flung it at Hunk. “I wasn’t _flirting_ , I was saying hello.” He said with an indignant sniff. “Besides, the blue looking one was pretty. It’s not my fault they wanted to say hello too.”

“Yes and I’m sure he’d really prettily rip you to shreds with his pretty claws,” Pidge said, tone flat. “He looked like he wanted to eat you, Lance.”

“Different strokes for different folks, Pidgeon. Maybe I like a little nibble.” Lance replied. He looked decidedly smug.

Shiro rolled his eyes but snorted in fond amusement. Pidge rolled her eyes as well, but it was Hunk who commented as he reached for Pidge’s part of the frame to connect it to his own.

“I seem to recall something from breakfast,” He said, sparing a quick glance in Lance’s direction.

Oddly enough, the smirk on Lance’s face slid right off. He flailed upright and bent to clap a hand over Hunk’s mouth. “Don’t you--”

But Hunk simply stretched aside, moving out of the range of Lance’s noodly arms. “One word, Lance. Pulsate.”

Lance cried out and flopped into the grass, dramatic as he rolled away from the yellow paladin. He clapped his palms over his ears and flopped around like a fish out of water. “ARGH. No! Why did you have to say that? Why!?”

Lost, Shiro could only watch in bemusement. Clearly, he had missed something. “Anyone care to explain to the rest of the class?”

Three sets of eyes swiveled in Shiro’s direction. There was a long silence, then the three younger paladins were turning aside to shoot furtive glances at one another. Which was suspicious of course as they weren’t subtle in the slightest. _Okaaay_ , Shiro thought. So he had missed a lot more than he’d initially thought. Arching a brow, he waited for some sort of explanation. When none came, he arched the other brow. Finally, Lance hauled himself upright and offered Shiro a shrug and a lop-sided grin. Bits of grass clung to his sweaty neck and hair.

“It’s nothing, man. We were just teasing Keith this morning at breakfast. They’re just burning me back,” Lance explained.

Shiro wasn’t entirely convinced. “Okay,” He replied. “Does this have anything to do with him trying to strangle you?”

Lance and Hunk immediately started to bob their heads enthusiastically.

“Oh. Yeah! Yeah totally. I deserved it though. Totally, totally deserved it.” Lance affirmed.

“Yeah, he was being an ass. I promise,” Hunk agreed.

A ripple of something that felt vaguely like annoyance came from Pidge. “Stupid,” She muttered.

Shiro’s angled his head to eye her instead. “Anything you want to add, kiddo?”

Pidge shrugged, nonchalant. She was better than them, but it was clear that something was up. “Nothing, just that boys are hella dumb. Can we get this done so we can go? This is the last thing, right?”

Shiro was quiet for several ticks. The longer the silence stretched, the stronger the tickle of anxiety buzzing between them became. Hard to lie about something when they all shared what was essentially a magic-induced soul bond. Not that Shiro needed a soul bond to know that something was amiss. Hunk was all but squirming where he sat and Lance kept poking and prodding at him.

Yeah, something was _definitely_ up. Shiro decided not to press it though. If it was important they would eventually tell him and Hunk would probably spill the beans before any of the others. Hunk didn’t exactly do guilt particularly well, or secrets for that matter, which was really kind of endearing. Turning back to his pieces of the frame, Shiro went back to work. Nearby the grass rustled, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others whispering amongst themselves. There was a hissed _shut up already you dumbass_ from Pidge, and then silence.   

The quiet didn’t last very long because once they’d all picked up their work again Pidge picked up the thread of conversation.  “Anyway, I think Allura wanted to talk to Keith about Altean stuff or something after the castle was loaded up. Pretty sure that’s what Keith’s probably doing.”

“Altean stuff?” Shiro asked. It was bait, of course, to draw his attention away from the odd exchange between his teammates, but Shiro was genuinely curious. He hadn’t felt so much as a ripple from Keith for most of the afternoon. “What sort of Altean stuff?

“I dunno,” Pidge replied. “Probably just the normal Altean stuff? You could probably ask Keith later. I’m sure it’s not a secret. She’s probably just happy that her and Coran aren’t the only ones now, even if Keith is only part Altean.”

That made sense. But what didn’t make sense was the little buzz of anticipation the others were giving off. Anticipation and unease. There was also a little hum of guilt coming from Hunk, and Shiro wasn’t surprised to find that he was right about the yellow paladin being the first to crack. Lance seemed to sense it as well because he bent forward to nudge Hunk in the soft part of his ribs with the end of a bony elbow. Hunk jerked where he sat and snorted out an overtly fake sort of laugh. Mystified, Shiro could only blink.

“Oh-ahh! So uhm. We’re like almost done. Why don’t you go ask him now? I bet he’d be happy to see you? Sooo—Err,” Hunk said, an affected sort of grin plastered across his face.

“Yeah!” Lance piped up. “We can finish up here. No big deal! You look like you could use a break!”

Well, that all but confirmed it. Something was up, and for some reason, the younger paladins were trying to get Shiro to leave. If he’d been a more insecure person, he might’ve thought the worst. Thankfully the only person who couldn't stand Shiro on most days was himself. But that was only part of the time, and he had to admit that getting out of heat sounded appealing. Snagging Keith for some time to themselves sounded even better. The day had been dragging by at a snail’s pace and Shiro was eager to continue their conversation from that morning.

He’d been trying not to think about it all day. Otherwise focusing on anything would have been impossible. But for as much as Shiro wanted to go back to the castle, he still felt a pang of unease at the idea of leaving the others. Digging his teeth into his lower lip, Shiro mulled it over as he bent to pick up Hunk’s pieces of the frame to attach them to his own.

There were literally a thousand things that could potentially go wrong. Most of the scenarios that were playing out were worst-case, all of which included inevitable death and gore. And even if their lions were nearby, the Vyjni had proven that they were not to be trusted. Shiro couldn’t just leave, he had a responsibility to protect his team even if they were more than capable of fending for themselves.

“Dude, just go already,” Pidge said, interrupting Shiro’s thoughts.

Glancing up, Shiro found that she was shaking her head in fond exasperation. He must’ve been projecting through their connection. Or maybe he’d been making a face. His nose _was_ pinched up and he was chewing on his lip pretty aggressively. Puffing out a soft laugh despite himself, Shiro ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Was I that obvious?” He asked.

“Totally,” Pidge confirmed. “But it’s cool. You go, we’ll finish up and it’ll be fine. If it isn’t fine we’ll just blow some shit up.”

“Yeah, man. It’s cool. It’s almost done anyway,” Hunk added with a smile of his own.

“And yes, before you even ask, we’ll keep the comms open. If anything goes down you’ll be the first to know,” Lance piped in, not to be left out.

Affection unfurled like a banner, filling Shiro’s chest with airy lightness. Decision made, he pushed the feeling toward the three of them. “Thanks, guys, you’re kind of the best.” He said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge grumped. She pulled a clump of grass up by the roots and hurled it in Shiro’s direction, much like Lance had done with Hunk moments ago. “Just get out of here before we change our minds. You totally owe us big time.”

Bending, Shiro scooped up his abandoned helmet and tucked it up under his arm. Anxious as he was to get back to the castle, he wanted to be sure the others were all set. “Maybe I can work something out with Allura. With all that’s happened, I’m sure we’re due for a break.”

The statement earned Shiro a whoop from Lance. He pumped his fist in the air and nearly dropped the assembled pieces of the framework he was holding up for Hunk.

“Hey, careful, man!” Hunk scolded.

Muttering apologies, Lance straightened up and went back to focusing on the task at hand. Shiro watched as Pidge scrambled to duck underneath, a glowing spanner in her hands.

“Okay, guys, I’ll see you at dinner I guess,” He said, lingering still. The trio nodded in assent as he went on. “And make sure you call if there’s _any_ sign of trouble. I mean it.”

“Yessir!” Lance replied. He even managed a bit of a salute despite the fact that his arms were full of metal.

Grinning, Shiro offered a salute in return. Then he was pivoting on his heels and striding through the long grass to where Black waited. In the short time they’d been together, they had all come such a long way. It used to eat at him, the stress of trying to keep everyone safe, of having to keep his shit together so that he could be the leader. And while it still did eat Shiro from time to time, somehow the burden was a little less heavy. Shiro suspected it had a lot to do with his untested cadets finally finding their confidence.

There were still days that ended with Shiro’s heart hammering in his chest. Days when he crammed his fear so far down his throat that he choked on it in the aftermath as he shook apart in the dark confines of his room. Days when they just barely managed to scrape by on the skin of their teeth, and days when even though they’d fought like hell they still managed to lose. That they’d come so far without losing one of their own was… Well.

Shiro wouldn’t allow it. _Couldn’t_ allow it. Not now, not ever.

His motivations weren’t noble in the slightest. Not if Shiro were being truly honest with himself. Losing _hurt_. It hurt so damned much. And there was a lot that Shiro had lost over the course of his life. People, places, even parts of himself had been torn away heedless of the pain it caused. And the hurt… It festered like a sore. Shiro was sick of it. Sick and so damned tired.

Sighing, Shiro withdrew his awareness into his own head. He wasn’t sure how much he’d telegraphed, but his chest felt tight, and his breathing was rough and cagey. He hadn’t meant for his thoughts to spin off in such an ugly direction, but now that his mood had gone sour it felt a bit like he’d hurled himself off the edge of a proverbial cliff. Ahead, Black loomed like a monolith and the promise of the climate controlled flight-deck was enough for Shiro to pick up his pace. A few more strides and Black was dipping his massive head to allow Shiro entrance.

Trudging up the ramp, Shiro made his way up to the flight deck. As the doors opened a blast of cool air puffed over his face. It was such a relief that Shiro groaned in pleasure and luxuriated in the more temperate climate for a long moment before moving to his seat. He dropped down into it lazily and tipped his head back. The cool air felt amazing against his over-heated skin, so amazing that he fumbled for the controls to turn the air up. Closing his eyes, Shiro sighed as the breeze tickled through his sweat-damp hair.

Eventually, there was a little nudge at the edge of his awareness. Somehow Shiro wasn’t surprised at who it was. Curious, and perhaps a little tentative, Keith radiated concern. Shiro immediately felt guilty, and without meaning to, telegraphed that guilt back. Seconds later his private comm channel was pinging with an incoming transmission.

“Fuck,” Shiro cursed quietly and scrubbed his hand down his sweaty face.

The alert was still trilling as he waffled in indecision. Grunting, Shiro shot a hand out and activated the audio. Keith didn’t wait for him to say hello.

“Shiro?” He asked. “Why didn’t you turn the video feed on? You okay?”

Shiro pulled in a breath then pushed it out long and loud. He was slow to answer, but Keith knew him well enough by now to let him have his silence when he needed it.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Shiro replied eventually. “Sorry, I’m fine. I’m just hot I guess. And maybe a little tired.”

On the other end of the feed, there was a quiet shuffling followed by some clicking. Shiro wondered where Keith was if he wasn’t in his lion. Probably at his station on the command bridge, Shiro guessed.

“Pidge called a few minutes ago, she said you were headed back to the castle,” Keith said. “I can see Black, you haven’t moved yet.”

Command bridge it was then. Though to test the theory, and maybe to be just a bit passive-aggressive, Shiro powered Black up, only to have the massive lion sit back on its haunches and turn its head toward the castle. Something like annoyance buzzed along the back of Shiro’s skull, and through the feed, he heard Keith snort.

“Don’t be an ass just because you’re trying to deflect,” Keith said, clearly unimpressed. “If you’re tired and cranky just come back to the damned castle.”

Shifting in his seat, Shiro punched Black’s controls. Gracefully, the lion bounded up into the air and spun in the direction of the castle. Shiro felt a ripple of approval from Keith, and though the comm channel stayed open they were both silent. It wasn’t until he’d flown into the hangar and landed that Keith spoke again. This time he was quiet, apologetic even.

"I have to finish up with Coran. Why don’t you go take a cold shower and get something to drink? I can come find you when I’m done. If you want.” He said.

Shiro, still lingering in Black’s cock-pit found himself nodding despite the fact that Keith couldn’t see it. “Yeah...Okay,” He agreed. “Sorry, I’m just-”

 

_Rapid-cycling. Being an asshole for no reason because my brain is broken. Wallowing in self-pity._

 

The options were damned near endless. But Shiro _was_ hot and in light of their early morning jaunt, he was pretty tired. And now, with the cool air on his skin, he could tell that the heat and the sun had left him with a bit of a burn. It was starting to sting a bit.

“It's fine, Takashi. Just go sort yourself out and I’ll come find you when I can, okay?” Keith said. And while his voice was soft and more patient than was typical, it was the gentle warmth of his concern wrapping Shiro like a blanket that left Shiro’s throat tight.

“..Yeah, okay,” Shiro agreed after he’d mastered himself. “I’ll see you later. Thanks, Keith.”

Affection nudged at his senses, thrumming through Shiro’s awareness. It tempered some of the ache inside of him.

“I’ll try to hurry,” Keith assured.

The comm channel closed, leaving Shiro in the silence. Powering down Black, Shiro puffed out a sigh. Then he was hauling himself to his feet and setting out in the direction of his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm. Hey guys. Sorry for taking so long to update this. I really had meant to stick to a schedule, but I kind of got consumed by FFXV and Voltron fell by the wayside. I'm still going to try and get this finished, but I have been struggling with a bit of writers block. Anyway, here is my meager offering which is more than slightly self-indulgent. :B

 

The darkness was a blessing as Shiro stepped into the cool confines of his room aboard the Castle of Lions. Forgoing the over-head lights, the cool tones of the auxiliary lighting along the floor lit his way as he padded over to the bed. Sitting, he slumped forward resting his elbows on his thighs. He sat like that for a long moment, head hanging as he breathed in the calming, cool air. It felt better, now that he was alone and not melting from the heat. Somewhere between the Vyjni settlement and his room, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had left him to his own thoughts. Keith however, was a quiet, yet unobtrusive presence in the back of Shiro’s mind. Like the pulsing hum of a familiar song playing in the next room.

Drawing in a long breath, Shiro centered on that. It calmed the chafing urge that itched inside him; that dark thing that whispered and baited him relentlessly. That thing that told him to lash out and destroy, to _hurt_. Against his thigh, mechanized fingers twitched and whirred as if in response, and it had Shiro cursing loudly. Lurching upright, he staggered to his feet. The urge to move, to do _something_ was too strong to ignore. 

Digging his fingers into the fittings that held his armor together, Shiro peeled them apart. One by one the pieces clattered to the floor. Allura would likely have his head if she saw him doing it, and for a second he felt terrible about leaving such a mess. Apathy over-road the guilt, however, and instead of cleaning up he stripped out of the dark suit he still wore and flung it across the room. That accomplished Shiro grabbed something clean to wear from his meager belongings and stomped toward the en-suite bathroom. The door whooshed open as he slapped the controls with more force than was strictly necessary. Utterly seething, Shiro stepped inside. 

He felt so pointless. And angry for reasons he couldn't quite pin down.

Stalking toward the shower stall, the slapping sound of his feet on the tile floor was loud in Shiro’s ears. As was the rush of water after he wrenched the shower controls open. Harsh and immediate, the spray was just cold enough to be uncomfortable. Shiro ignored the prickly sensation and tipped his head forward instead so that the water stung icy daggers into his neck and back. It wasn’t until Shiro felt his muscles begin to cramp with tiny shivers that he relented and eased the temperature up to something approaching luke-warm. It helped him to focus, focus and sharpen his resolve enough so that after a few minutes Shiro felt more like himself.

Even so, reaching for the soap so that he could bathe himself was a monumental effort. It was perfunctory and slow, and by the end of it, Shiro felt a bit like all his energy had leaked out and swirled down the drain. It was pathetic, really, if Shiro was being honest with himself. Grunting, he thumped his head into the tile wall. Pathetic. Shiro was pathetic. It was a wonder he could get anything done at all, feeling like this. Oddly, it had him thinking of his sister and something she’d told him a lifetime ago.

“It’s just me against myself,” He said with a sigh. “And I think the wrong me is going to win today, Saki.”

Reaching toward the shower controls, Shiro turned the water off. Somehow he doubted Saki had ever accounted for her little brother being kidnapped and experimented on by a hostile alien race and then getting embroiled in a ten-thousand-year intergalactic war. There were probably a lot of things that Saki never accounted for, though it wasn’t exactly like she was around to give Shiro shit about it either. The only thing he could do was to blunder forward hoping he made the right decisions for himself and for the sake of his friends.

For now though? Decisions could wait.

The only thing Shiro wanted to do was maybe get something to eat and sleep for 15 Vargas. Stepping out of the shower, he snatched up a clean towel and started to dry himself off. Once his hair was passable he mopped off his skin and pulled the clean tee he’d brought with him over his head. Loose fitting sweats followed seconds later and then Shiro moved out into the bedroom. As he did so, he immediately noted something was amiss. His armor, missing from the floor, was being tucked into a storage compartment by a wraith-like figure across the room.

In the dark, the figure froze and Shiro reacted before he could stop himself. Electric violet light threw the room into high-relief, flashing out between himself and the shadow person. It buzzed and vibrated along the chrome plates of Shiro’s mechanized limb.

“Woah. Woah. Hold up. It’s just me,” Keith said, voice steady and quiet. His posture was relaxed but he was poised as if ready to move should the need arise.  

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath. A rush of something quiet and familiar nudged at his awareness and he reached toward it gratefully. Powering down the tech in his arm, Shiro cringed at the high-pitched buzzing sound it made as the light faded.

“Shit,” Shiro grunted finally. He pinched his eyes shut and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Keith, sorry I--Sorry. _Fuck_.”

Across the room, Keith shuffled. The sound was soft and deliberate, alerting Shiro of Keith’s movement. He didn’t come closer though, he moved toward the door instead. Shiro could hear fingers trailing the wall as Keith went.

“I’m just gonna turn the lights up, okay?” Keith replied, choosing not to acknowledge the apology.

Shiro hummed in the response, the thick noise catching in the back of his throat. Behind his closed eyelids, he was aware of the lights coming up to a more balanced level. He took another steadying breath, then opened his eyes to find Keith hovering in the entryway.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro tried again, feeling miserable.

Keith frowned, cocking his head to the side. His face scrunched up and finally, he shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear me. I should’ve made sure you knew I was here instead of creeping around in the dark.”

Shiro grunted out a low, frustrated noise in response. He shuffled over to the bed and slumped down on it. Once there he couldn’t stop the quick, stilted motion of his hands scrubbing roughly through the wet hair at the back of his head. It _wasn’t_ Keith’s fault. It was his own and the truth of the matter thumped against the insides of his skull like a drum-beat. There was a counter-point however, a spark-bright tendril of intractable, adamant affection that pulsed from Keith.

Releasing a shaky sigh, Shiro chased the sensation back to the source. Stubborn and steadfast, Keith radiated concern with all the heat of a burning star. Glancing up finally, Shiro’s eyes caught on the way Keith was pressing his fist into his own chest.   

 _Your fault._ The dark thing inside of Shiro accused. He ignored it.  

“Hey,” Shiro said instead. He straightened up and beckoned Keith closer.  “Can...Can you come over here so I can try this again?”

Keith regarded Shiro a moment from where he stood. Not wary, per say, but speculative and appraising. For one heart-stopping moment, Shiro thought he might turn and walk away. But finally, Keith shrugged and moved closer. When he was near enough, Shiro reached out to capture him by the fingers to draw him into the V of his parted legs. Eye-level with Keith’s chest now, Shiro was suddenly unsure of what to do with his arms.

Somehow the easy proximity they’d shared that morning had fled and it left Shiro feeling a bit out of step. He set his hands on Keith’s hips, only to change his mind a moment later to let them drape around the back of Keith’s thighs. But that too felt awkward enough that Shiro wrinkled his nose and set his palms down on top of the mattress.

Keith grunted in exasperation, and oddly enough Shiro found it charming. He was smiling a little as Keith man-handled his arms and tugged them up so that they draped about Keith’s middle in a loose embrace. Tightening his grip, Shiro dropped his forehead so that it rested against Keith’s sternum. A ripple of something like amusement pulsed between them and Keith batted gently at the back of Shiro’s head.

“Nerd,” Keith teased.

Even without seeing him, Shiro could tell he was smiling so Shiro grinned as well even as he hauled Keith closer. Keith went willingly and draped his arms over the breadth of Shiro’s broad shoulders. His chin dropped to rest on the crown of Shiro’s head.

“Shh,” Shiro replied at length. “It’s a secret.”

A soft chuckle puffed through Shiro’s damp hair. “Really? Is that what you’re calling it now?” Keith asked.

Shiro’s smile widened, and the constricting press of sadness eased. It gave way to something soft and effusive that zeroed in on Keith like a homing beacon. Slowly, carefully, like a blossom turning toward the sunlight, Keith opened under the gentle onslaught. What Keith reflected back in equal measure was his own brand of fiercely protective regard. Shiro reveled in it, unable to mask his admiration or his love. He clutched Keith tighter, hiding his grin in the heat of Keith’s chest.

“You’re such a cheeseball,” Keith complained. His voice was a gentle, bemused murmur.

Laughing quietly, Shiro shook his head. “No, not really,” He lied.

At his shoulders, Keith’s fingers twitched. Shiro felt as they drew away to scratch through the short, prickly strands of hair at the sides of his head. It felt nice, and it prompted a pleased little groan on Shiro’s part.

“You do know that I can basically tell when you’re making shit up, right?” Keith asked with a laugh of his own.

“Mm, whatever,” Shiro returned. He didn’t care in the slightest. “Just keep doing that thing with your hands. It feels nice.”

Keith’s chest rumbled with a wry little chuckle. His fingers continued to scratch at Shiro’s scalp and Shiro couldn’t help but sigh at the touch. Deeply pleased, he tucked his head down further despite the mild sting from his sun-burnt skin. It was starting to smart now that it was rubbing against the fabric of Keith’s shirt. But it was a mild sort of sacrifice, especially if the tradeoff was losing the feel of Keith’s hands in his hair.

Slowly, the irascible bundle of tension inside of Shiro began to melt away. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift, savoring his hard-won peace. Eventually, however, Keith’s set his palms to Shiro’s shoulders and eased him upright. Going willingly, Shiro blinked open his eyes and peered up at Keith. There was a small frown hiding in the corner of his mouth, and the look on his face was soft and vulnerable. It left Shiro aching in a way that was old and familiar. Frowning himself, he pushed his chin up into Keith’s sternum.

“You okay?” Shiro asked quietly.

Keith’s nose wrinkled. His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” He said.

“Ahh,” Shiro returned. Then, arching a brow he said: “It’s almost like you can read my mind or something. We must be soul-mates.”

Keith’s grin sharpened despite the way he rolled his eyes. He gave Shiro a little shove and laughed. “Don’t be an ass.”

Shrugging, Shiro grinned. He felt better now. A little tired, but much better. He supposed he ought to get up and get something to drink, which was probably at least 70% of his problem. Trouble was, Shiro just couldn’t call up the effort required to move. Keith was soft and present and right where Shiro had been aching to have him all damned day. Their emotionally explosive conversation from that morning seemed like it had happened eons ago. Lifetimes, even.

“So what’d Allura have you doing all afternoon?” He asked eventually.

“She just wanted to talk for the most part. I think she’s just happy her and Coran aren’t the last Alteans. Even if I am only half of one,” Keith replied as he swept aside Shiro’s snowy fringe.

“It might be worth it to do a little digging into the history of Altea,” Shiro suggested. “I bet Coran or Allura would teach you if you asked.”

That pulled a thoughtful hum from Keith. His nose wrinkled, which wasn’t exactly promising, but it was better than an outright scowl.

“I guess,” He hedged. “It’s just strange. I’ve always been...Just me. I never had any ties to anything before I met you and...All this? It’s just a lot I guess. I have this whole history that I’m somehow part of. It almost doesn’t feel real. Like it’s someone else’s life.”

Nodding, Shiro smoothed his palms along Keith’s back. There was a subtle tension there that buzzed between them that seemed reflexive and beyond Keith’s control. That, Shiro, had learned over the years, was just baseline Keith. The only time Shiro had ever seen him free of it was when he was flying. Still, Shiro knew he had to tread carefully. A push too far and Keith would clam up tighter than an oyster.

“It’s going to take some adjustment,” He agreed quietly. “No one is expecting you to be okay with all of this overnight.”

Keith grunted. His mouth curled into a frown and he glanced aside, thoughtful. He appeared to be listening, but not actively. It reminded Shiro acutely of when they were younger and he’d spend all his time trying to drill some sense into Keith’s overly hard head. The thought had Shiro’s mouth quirking up into a fond smile.

“We’re all here for you, you know that right? We want to help, you’ve just got to let us know what we can do,” Shiro pressed, entirely sincere. As he went on though, he felt his grin widen mischievously. “I mean, I know it’s kind of a lot for everyone else to take in, but I always knew you were out of this world.”

Blinking, Keith tipped his gaze in Shiro’s direction. His face was doing a complicated maneuver that wasn’t quite a scowl or a smile. Eventually, he pressed his mouth into a thin, pursed line and shook his head. Exasperation thrummed between them, vibrating like a guitar string that had been plucked too hard.

“I can’t--” Keith grunted. He closed his eyes. Then his body shook and he barked out a snorting laugh. “Fuck you, Takashi. That was _terrible_!”

Shiro laughed as well, even as he offered up his most winning smile. “Terribly _funny_ you mean. That was a great joke and I didn’t even planet.”

“Ugh!!” Keith bellowed. Wriggling away, he shoved the palm of his hand into Shiro’s face and gave it a push. “Banned, Shirogane. You are banned forever!”

Grappling the waist of Keith’s jeans, Shiro held fast, laughing as they struggled against one another. “Ke~eeith. C’mon, don’t _alien_ ate me.

That, as Shiro’s luck would have it, was apparently the last straw. Growling out a string of garbled curses, Keith all but launched himself into Shiro’s lap. Sprawled backward on the bed, Shiro yelped out in surprised glee. But Keith was playing dirty and they grappled across the mattress. Rolling atop Shiro’s prone body, Keith’s bony fingers dug into Shiro’s ribs, tickling mercilessly. The thin fabric of his tee shirt was no protection at all and Shiro squawked indignantly as Keith found his soft, weak spots.

“If I ever hear such a terrible pun from you again, I swear to god I’ll--” Keith began.

Lurching upright, Shiro snatched Keith by the middle and propelled him sideways. He tumbled into the bed with a loud _‘Oomph!’,_ his arms splayed out around him. In a real scrap, he would’ve shot up and tried to best Shiro again. As it was, his struggle was only half-hearted. He wriggled upright and shoved ineffectually at Shiro’s shoulders.

“You’ll do what?” Shiro challenged, grinning.

Arching a brow, Keith scowled up at Shiro. He could’ve easily freed himself if he had really wanted to. Instead, he flicked the end of Shiro’s nose with his finger.

Shiro sniggered. “Oh, the human-E.T. That the worst you got, Kogane?”

It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. But something about the sly quirk of Keith’s mouth told Shiro he was about to get his ass handed to him. Seconds later, Keith proved him right by lifted a leg, and twisting his body until it forced Shiro up and over. He tumbled over with a snort and let out a pained grunt as Keith’s bony limbs jammed into his ribs. He flopped down on top of Shiro, arms folded across Shiro’s chest.

“You’re done with that. Don’t make me make you,” Keith warned playfully.

And though he was teasing, there was something decidedly alluring about the prospect. Warmth bloomed between them and it had Shiro thinking about the color of the kisses he’d sucked into Keith’s skin earlier that morning. He couldn’t deny that the idea of Keith returning the favor was incredibly... Interesting. Humming thoughtfully, he reached out to brush a few stray locks of hair from Keith’s eyes. They tracked the movement, soft yet alert. Before Shiro could think better of it, he scooped his palm behind the curve of Keith’s skull and coaxed him down to steal a kiss.

Keith came willingly, sliding up along the length of Shiro’s body so that their mouths fit together more sweetly. But despite the fact that Shiro had initiated the exchange, Keith was in total command. He teased Shiro’s mouth open with startling finesse and deepened the kiss enough that it left Shiro groaning. The sound prompted a shudder to run through Keith’s body, and he dug his fingers into the meat of Shiro’s shoulders. Pressing closer, he reached out to cup his palms around the line of Shiro’s jaw.

Heat vibrated between them, toe-curling and electrifying. Shiro slid his palms down Keith’s flanks, catching him at the hips and hauling him nearer. Mostly because Shiro wanted to, but also because he _could_. More than that, Keith wanted it too. His answering approval was a rumbling purr, felt more than heard. It had him arching against Shiro, mouth a hot, demanding thing that gave and took in equal measure.

It was amazing. And fucking terrifying. Like the first time he’d hurtled toward the vast, open sky in Black, pushing further, and faster than he’d ever dared before. Pushing the feeling outward, Shiro grunted desperately into Keith’s mouth as their lips mashed together in a messy kiss. Shiro wanted Keith to feel it, the feeling inside him. He wanted Keith to know it was how he’d felt since the very beginning.

The sound that Keith made in response was a soft, broken thing. He trembled and shook and tightened his fingers around Shiro’s jaw as he ruthlessly lay claim to Shiro’s mouth. _Mine_. Something fierce and possessive seemed to say. Not the dark thing inside of Shiro, but something bright and scalding like fire in the sky. It burned away the lingering murk clawing around inside of him. _Yours_. Shiro agreed, and inexplicably, felt his throat tightening through the sudden ache in his chest.

It stung and burned his eyes until Keith gentled the kiss and drew away. Panting, his warm breath fanned out across Shiro’s cheek. Closing his eyes, Shiro attempted to calm himself; to reign himself in so that he wasn’t pouring out all his over-wrought emotions between them.

“Sorry,” Shiro apologized after a long, stretch of heavy breathing. His voice was scratchy and rough.

Keith shook his head minutely, his nose tickling across the apple of Shiro’s cheek. His fingertips pressed soothingly into the muscle at the nape of Shiro’s neck.

“’S fine,” Keith replied, voice thick. “I get it.”

Shiro snorted in derision. Because really, there was no way in hell anyone could understand, let alone Keith. But the thought was unkind and entirely untrue. If anyone understood, if anyone _could_ understand, it was Keith. Ashamed, Shiro felt his face go hot.

“Yeah, you-- Sorry. Just, sorry,” Shiro mumbled.

Keith made a soft noise in response. His fingers continued to press into Shiro’s skin but they were tentative, curious even as they mapped out the line of Shiro’s jaw. Swallowing hard, Shiro frowned as Keith’s fingertips traversed along the stinging skin at his brow. They then moved down the bridge of Shiro’s nose where they lingered cautiously at the rough, gnarled skin that bisected his face.

“Does it hurt?” Keith asked quietly.

For a second, Shiro was confused. Wrinkling his nose, he opened his eyes to squint up at Keith. “...Does what hurt?” He questioned, hedging.

A fingertip tapped Shiro’s tender, sunburnt forehead. It wasn’t super painful, but it did sting a little. Enough that Shiro’s brows pinched. It was answer enough because it had Keith rolling his eyes.

  
“There is such as a thing as sunscreen. You should probably try wearing some,” Keith said.

Shrugging a bit, Shiro reached up to bat Keith’s hand away from his face. “I did,” He countered. “It must’ve worn off.”

Snorting in disdain, Keith slid onto the mattress and heaved himself upright. “You should put something on that.”

Keith was right of course, but Shiro couldn’t be bothered to move. Instead, he pulled in a long breath and turned his head to the side. “It’s fine,” He replied. “It’s not that bad.”

A ripple of annoyance touched the edge of Shiro’s awareness. It was all the warning he got before Keith swung up to his feet and stalked away from the bed. Jarred by the sudden movement, Shiro’s pushed himself upright and made to clamber up off the bed as well.

“Keith, wait,” He called out in dismay.

Keith, who was halfway across the room, stopped suddenly. He twisted to look over his shoulder and his dark brows shot up into his hairline. “I’m not...” He paused, then shook his head. “I’m not leaving, I was just getting something for your skin. You probably don’t want to look like a lobster for a week.”

Ah. Right.

Feeling silly, and more than just a bit embarrassed, Shiro sheepishly scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. He glanced aside for a few ticks, but when he looked back up Keith was still hovering where he’d stopped. Something about the way he shifted from foot to foot made him seem unsure of himself. Reluctant. When Keith finally turned on his heel and shuffled into the bathroom it was graceless and ungainly. When he emerged a few moments later, he was holding a small jar of salve.

Shiro watched as he wandered back toward the bed. He made a quick detour, however, grabbing something from the small table in the room before rejoining Shiro. It was a rehydration pack, which he pushed into Shiro’s chest as he sat down.

“Drink,” Keith mumbled, eyes cast aside. His face, Shiro noted, was somewhat flushed.

Doing as he was told, Shiro took the pouch and carefully opened it by inserting the attached straw down through the seal. He wasted no time in chugging the mildly fruity tasting liquid inside and crushed the pouch with his fist when it was finished. Holding it out to Keith, Shiro awaited further instruction. Keith said nothing as he took the empty pack and chucked it into the trash receptacle near the end of Shiro’s bed. Once that was accomplished he was unscrewing the little jar of salve and coating his fingers in it.

The first touch of it to Shiro’s skin was cool enough that it prompted a soft hiss from him. Keith paused only for a second, then continued to slather it carefully along the ridge of Shiro’s brow and down along his nose. He finished by working some into the sun-burnt skin along Shiro’s cheekbones, careful not to let the salve glob up in the ugly divot of scar-tissue. He lingered though, almost speculative, as he chewed at his lower lip. His nose was pinched up in the way it often did when he was brooding over something. Whatever it was that Keith was considering went unsaid, but Shiro still felt a faint, breathless constriction somewhere under his sternum. Swaying closer, Shiro rested his forehead against Keith’s temple.

“Hey,” He said quietly.  

“I’m fine, I was just thinking,” Keith returned.

Reaching out, Shiro curled his warm, human fingers around Keith’s wrist. “Feel like sharing?” He asked, mouth quirking into a small smile.

Keith blew out a loud breath. And though it sounded like frustration, Shiro could feel a thumping pulse of sadness.

“I’m just...Angry, I guess. About everything. So many people have been hurt because of this damned war, not just you or me. How many lives have been ruined because of the creation of Voltron?” Keith said.

He had a point. Shiro couldn’t argue with that. But Voltron was, and always had been, only a piece of the larger picture. Voltron was just a tool. A powerful, damned near invincible tool. Shiro could see the appeal in having that sort of firepower at your side. He did have that sort of firepower at his side. He used it to protect as Zarkon must done, once upon a time. But there had to have been a catalyst, something that had pushed Zarkon into coveting that power, rather than using it for the good of all.

Voltron wasn’t what had caused the sickness. Yes, it had exacerbated it, but it wasn’t the root of the problem.

“Keith. You know we can’t change any of that now, as much as we want to,” Shiro countered gently. “All we can do is move forward and try to do what we can to ensure that more lives aren’t irreparably damaged. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. I am too.”

Keith’s nose wrinkled at that, and he scowled down at the mattress. He was thinking about what Shiro had just said, that much was obvious by the way he gnawed at his lower lip. Quiet, Shiro rubbed his palm along the bare skin of Keith’s forearm. Finally, Keith shrugged away, putting some space between the two of them. His fingers, however, tangled with Shiro’s and he pulled their joined hands down to rest on his thigh.

“..It’s strange,” Keith said quietly. He was staring down at their linked hands. “I spent so long convinced that I hated my dad for what I thought he did, and I still kind of do, but...”

“But now that you know more of the story, it’s more complicated,” Shiro finished.

Glancing up for a brief second, Keith nodded. Guilt squirmed through their bond, as well as something like shame. Shiro squeezed Keith’s fingers.

“Seeing both sides of a story doesn’t negate your feelings or your experience of it, Keith,” Shiro replied. “You can understand why someone did something and still not agree with it. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

“I guess,” Keith grunted. “..I just. It feels like I’m supposed to feel guilty or something for being angry. But I’m not. I’m just... Fucking angry and I still kind of hate him for leaving.”

Shiro got it. He did. There had been a time when his own anger was a seething, hot ball that boiled and bubbled under his skin searing him from the inside out. It was still there, maybe closer to the surface than it had been in years, but it was still there. There were even days when he struggled to keep it in check. But he had to. If not for his own sake, then for the promise he’d made to himself and to his sister. It was the last promise he’d made to Saki, and Shiro would be damned if he reneged on it.

“That makes sense,” Shiro said at length. “It’s going to take some time to sort everything out and there are no rules that say you have to feel a certain way. If you’re angry, that’s fine. If you’re not that’s fine too. You just have to find a constructive way to vent it, otherwise, it’ll eat you up. You and I both know that.”

Keith made a soft, wry noise at that. His mouth twisted up into a frown and he glowered at Shiro. “We’ve had this conversation before, Shirogane.” He warned.

“Yeah, and it still applies,” Shiro shot back.

Scowl deepening, Keith twisted his fingers from Shiro’s grasp. When he jabbed his pointer finger into Shiro’s chest it was an accusation. “Yeah, and what I’ve said before still applies too: Lead by fucking example. I’ll do it when you do it.”

Touché.

Not for the first time, Shiro wondered what Saki would’ve thought of Keith. But the answer was obvious, and always had been. She would’ve _loved_ him. Strong, stubborn and fiercely loyal Keith. Who was just as much as a wreck as Shiro, but unafraid to call bullshit when he sniffed it out. One of these days, Shiro would tell Keith about her. Well, _more_ about her anyway. Keith had seen her picture tacked up in his old dorm room back at Garrison, and knew tangentially that Shiro had grown up with a sibling.

Sighing, Shiro reached up and captured Keith's hand. He drew it up over his shoulder and used the momentum to tug Keith in close. “Got me there, Cadet,” He replied.

Keith rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be pulled into the loose embrace. He circled his other arm over Shiro’s shoulder and leaned in until their noses bumped. “You pull rank on me and I’m going to kick your ass.”

Shiro hummed thoughtfully at that. The idea wasn’t as unappealing as he thought it might be. “You keep saying that but I don’t see you following through,” He teased. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d mind as much as you’d think.”  

The pulled a snort of amusement from Keith. A curl of something possessive and molten licked out from him and his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He challenged, eyes narrowing.

A shiver caught Shiro in the gut, leaving his muscles clenching low in his belly. Nodding, he swayed closer, arrested by the way Keith’s breath puffed out in short little whuffs. When he spoke, he noticed his voice had gone rough and gravelly.

“Sure. Go ahead.” Shiro invited.

Keith’s grin widened.


End file.
